Chapter 127
Chapter 127
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: A Quick Resolution
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Casually strolling toward the training ground, he suddenly became aware of the truly foul smell wafting from the training uniform he was wearing.
It was only natural. He'd been wearing the same one for nearly two months, sweating buckets, and vomiting up bile and blood more than a few times.
"Ah, now I get it."
He understood why Sang Irin had insisted on coming out yesterday.
If he'd known, he would've come out yesterday too, washed up, and changed clothes.
Wi Sungcheon scratched his head vigorously as that thought crossed his mind.
He considered stopping by the dorms to wash up and change,
but
'Not worth the hassle.'
The stench was annoying, but his mood right now was just right.
Washing up and changing wouldn't completely ruin the feeling, but what Wi Sungcheon craved wasn't that kind of refreshment.
The training ground was already bustling with observing instructors and spectating students.
Wi Sungcheon waved to the familiar faces in greeting.
"Looks relaxed."
Seok Ijin, the instructor in charge of practical classes, muttered.
He and the other instructors held brushes and paper. This wasn't just a simple spar—it was an 'evaluation.'
"Where's Hwangbo Seongu?"
"Said he's changing and coming."
"Thought he'd be here already."
It made him feel even more embarrassed for no reason.
Wi Sungcheon cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around.
No sign of Paeng Yeonhwa. She must be preparing for her duel with Hwangbo Seongu.
Feeling a twinge of regret, he looked ahead.
There stood Sang Irin, poised with dignified grace.
Her original softsword had been shattered by the Poison Blood Ghost Horse back in Gamsuk, but a new one had taken its place in her hand.
At a glance, it looked less like a sword and more like a long ribbon.
But Wi Sungcheon knew how sharp and vicious that seemingly soft silk became when it turned into a 'sword.'
Even though she'd lost to Yeongjin, Sang Irin's softsword was nothing to scoff at.
"Why don't you wash up first?"
Wi Sungcheon shrugged at her curt voice.
"Didn't want to keep you waiting. And this isn't so bad, right?"
"Do you even know what that smell is coming from your body?"
"It's nasty, sure, but tolerable. I've got a friend around me who reeks even worse, so I think this is pretty good by comparison."
Wi Sungcheon winked at Bang Jun as he said it.
Bang Jun, who'd come out to watch without much thought, met his eyes and let out an awkward laugh while munching on a potato.
"So, just bear with it for a bit."
"......Bear with it?"
"Yeah, it won't take long."
Wi Sungcheon shrugged off the top of his training uniform.
For all his talk, the stench from his clothes was bothering even him.
'I didn't notice at all back in the training cave.'
Mid-December weather was cold enough to freeze breath white. Yet Wi Sungcheon felt no chill.
Heat rose from his body. He stretched languidly, twisting his waist side to side.
"Won't take long."
Sang Irin's eyes narrowed.
The expressions of the instructors and students hardened slightly upon seeing Wi Sungcheon's bare torso. It was the first time he'd exposed himself like this.
'What kind of scars...'
Wi Sungcheon's body was covered in scars large and small.
Regret flickered in U Hayeon's eyes. The most recent one was undoubtedly the faint scar from her Plum Blossom Storm at the tournament.
It wasn't deep, so the scar was pale and would fade in time... but right now, its texture was still vivid.
And there were many more.
Slashes, stabs, burns—none were few in number.
'Whoa...'
The Tai Chi Sword Lord knew what caused those scars. He'd heard directly from Wi Sungcheon when he first taught him.
Pain training and sensory conditioning, started in childhood.
Those scars remained etched on Wi Sungcheon's body.
"......Yeah, it won't take long."
Chae-aeng!
The loosely hanging softsword stiffened taut.
Just as Wi Sungcheon had said. Sang Irin was certain this duel wouldn't drag on.
She'd seen his fights at the tournament. The moniker Dormant Dragon—she had to acknowledge it.
It was astonishing. From the despised Cheonhwamun? Unbelievable... Wi Sungcheon was exceptional.
So what? Sang Irin wasn't from the Nine Great Righteous Sects or a prestigious clan either.
But she felt no such camaraderie.
Instead of camaraderie,
irritation and jealousy welled up.
Many instructors and students were watching, but Sang Irin keenly felt only Mu Yeonjun's gaze among them.
She knew Mu Yeonjun had nominated Wi Sungcheon for the duel evaluation.
Normally, she would've yielded to Mu Yeonjun without question.
But not this time. Because the opponent was Wi Sungcheon. She understood why Mu Yeonjun took an interest in him.
He was special.
Yes, that much was undeniable.
A constitution that sensed demons... Mu Yeonjun, born with the lonely fate of a heavenly being, naturally took interest in Wi Sungcheon.
She accepted that.
But she hated it. She was jealous.
Sang Irin hated Wi Sungcheon. He was arrogant, disrespectful toward heavenly beings.
Why him, of all people? She got feeling a sense of kinship due to shared traits, but why that guy?
'I'm right here by your side.'
No need to take interest in someone like him just because of loneliness.
I've known you long before that guy showed up. I understood your solitude, admired you, followed you.
I wanted to stay by your side so you wouldn't crumble under that isolation.
If one day you faced your destiny head-on... I wanted to be right there beside you, the closest one.
'It's not too late even now.'
If she needed to prove she could stand by his side, it wasn't too late.
Ideally, she'd have met Wi Sungcheon at the Emperor's tournament. Prove herself to Mu Yeonjun then.
Thank goodness they hadn't met there. Sang Irin truly thought so.
If they had... she'd have lost.
But now.
"Begin."
Seok Ijin signaled the start of the duel.
Sang Irin's right arm moved. Her feet stayed planted, but the extended softsword whipped out like a lash, covering Wi Sungcheon.
Up until that moment, Wi Sungcheon hadn't moved.
He stood still, sensing.
His heightened senses caught the trajectory before the softsword even approached.
Fast and precise. Everyone marveled at Sang Irin's softsword.
A single swing unleashed myriad changes.
And it didn't end there. Her wrist twisted the trajectory even further.
The complex motion was impossible to follow with the eyes.
He didn't watch.
Wi Sungcheon wasn't watching the softsword—he watched Sang Irin.
How her hand moved. He felt the incoming intent on his skin.
Within his limited vision, he envisioned the softsword's path.
It wasn't hard. He saw and felt it.
A softsword's strikes differed from rigid blades. No straight slashes—instead, it coiled and cut.
Just like now.
The curving softsword wrapped halfway around Wi Sungcheon's body, squeezing in.
Wi Sungcheon moved just before the edge touched his arm.
Was it an illusion?
Many thought his body shimmered like heat haze.
Wi Sungcheon's body spun. He didn't resist the coiling softsword but flowed with its force. His step slid sideways.
He slipped from the trajectory, leaning as if falling.
Not just his upper body rose—his left foot lifted too, balancing on his right alone.
In that awkward stance, he bent his right knee.
Thung!
With the power of one leg, Wi Sungcheon lunged forward.
Regaining balance and maneuvering was easy too.
In the Mysterious Phantom March, he'd moved under far harsher conditions.
That was possible because his reflexes had reached wondrous heights. And thanks to the Heavy Water Divine Stance's free weight transfer.
Sang Irin's eyes widened. She dragged her foot back, pulling her right hand gripping the softsword.
Chwararak!
The softsword's blade thrashed wildly.
It dove at Wi Sungcheon's rear and flanks.
Mid-lunge, Wi Sungcheon tilted in midair. At the same time, his arm shot forward.
Still too far to reach Sang Irin, but she wasn't his target.
His hand hit the ground. Fingers scraped the dirt as he powered his forearm and shoulder.
Kwaak!
Amid dust, Wi Sungcheon's body leaped high.
She hadn't expected that move.
Sang Irin ignored the rising dust and looked upward.
Her wrist snapped.
Sword aura formed in an instant, enveloping the softsword. Infused with full qi, it surged up more fluidly and swiftly than her hand motions.
Wi Sungcheon fell slowly, gauging the distance to Sang Irin.
His slowly raising left hand extended toward the pursuing softsword.
Reckless. Unlike the blade cloaked in clear sword aura, Wi Sungcheon's hand bore no qi reinforcement.
He aimed for that one instant.
Catching the screeching metallic whine, as the softsword stretched to close the gap. When the linking chain was pulled maximally taut.
Complex changes, speed, unpredictable length—but for that one moment, the motion stalled.
Could he seize that 'instant'?
Of course. He wouldn't have chosen this approach without confidence.
Qi wrapped his fingers. Even taut, the chain was short. That's why fingers.
Not to sever the softsword.
To grab it.
Bent fingers hooked the chain.
Wi Sungcheon yanked his hand, accelerating his fall. The sudden weight made the softsword sway.
Wi Sungcheon plummeted downward while Sang Irin twisted urgently, swinging her arm wide to shake him off. But he didn't let go.
He'd fully merged with the softsword's flow. No resistance—just riding it.
No matter how she altered her motions, Wi Sungcheon clung.
To dislodge the leech-like Wi Sungcheon, her softsword movements grew fiercer.
When her flicking wrist launched it skyward, Wi Sungcheon's body detached.
Sang Irin flinched. She yanked her hand down to retrieve the softsword, but Wi Sungcheon's fall was faster.
'Not too late...!'
Unlike rigid swords, a softsword could strike with its flat too.
The blade's edge flipped, slicing toward Wi Sungcheon's side.
No need for a big dodge.
Wi Sungcheon tilted slightly sideways, away from it.
A tiny shift, but enough distance.
Tok!
Sang Irin heard the small sound.
Faint, but enough to rattle her focus.
His toe, which seemed just out of reach, touched as he leaned his waist.
Sang Irin had looked up to track his fall, arm extended.
That's how it reached.
Leg bent ever so slightly. Knee snapped. Not quite a full kick—the motion was that short.
But the extended toe precisely 'tapped' Sang Irin's chin.
That strike briefly shook Sang Irin's consciousness.
Vision flipped. Body refused to obey.
She sensed it and tried to escape—that instant too was fleeting.
But plenty long enough to decide the bout.
Wi Sungcheon seized Sang Irin's extended right arm—still gripping the softsword—with both hands.
Using it as leverage, he pulled his body in. His whole body moved.
Wi Sungcheon's legs wrapped Sang Irin's neck.
Udu-duk!
Twisting her embraced arm behind her back, he crossed his legs, clamping her neck tight.
Kwadang!
The sudden weight pitched Sang Irin's body forward.
"Kuhk...!"
Only after her chin slammed into the dirt did she grasp her predicament.
Her right arm twisted behind her back, Wi Sungcheon astride her neck and back, legs crossed in a chokehold.
'How?'
No—when?
The distance shouldn't have closed. Her slash was faster.
Consciousness... blacked out for an instant.
This, in that tiny gap?
Sang Irin's head spun.
Pressure on her neck intensified—breathing blocked, judgment clouded.
It wasn't over. Victory seemed clear to all, but she gritted her teeth.
She struggled to rise somehow, but couldn't shake Wi Sungcheon.
"Told you, right?"
Wi Sungcheon whispered in her ear with a grin.
"Won't take long."
He was right. Less than a moment had passed since the start.
Sang Irin gasped, clutching Wi Sungcheon's thigh with her left hand.
Her right arm couldn't move, legs barely supported her—and even that failed.
Slowly,
Sang Irin's vision faded to black.
Unable to breathe, she rasped, seeking Mu Yeonjun. He stood frozen, watching.
Their eyes met. Mu Yeonjun shook his head with pity.
Seeing that,
'Ah.'
Mu Yeonjun had held no expectations or interest in her for this duel.
She now knew for certain what she'd suspected from the start.
Wi Sungcheon released the limp Sang Irin.
Her twisted right arm thudded down.
"Take her to the medical office."
Wi Sungcheon glanced at Mu Yeonjun as he said it. Mu Yeonjun stared back a moment, then tilted his head.
"Why?"
"Poor thing."
Wi Sungcheon answered, picking up his discarded clothes.
"Take care of what's right in front of you first. I told you."
"......I see."
Mu Yeonjun nodded in understanding.